


how we dance in the margins

by skyclectic



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Reverse Chronology, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 03:09:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyclectic/pseuds/skyclectic
Summary: this is how sana and momo articulate their relationship; through a snapshot of moments in the liminal spaces of public restrooms and familiar bathrooms. this is their story, told in reverse.





	how we dance in the margins

**Author's Note:**

> for the friends i’ve been blessed to recently find; all of whom have no real grasp of how, in just a few days, they have saved me in the most inexplicable ways. <3
> 
> \------
> 
> this is me trying out a new way of writing, cos i really wanted to write a one-shot and not another mammoth thing. so, i hope you all will still enjoy this anyway.

the expanse of air neither here nor there  
and how we dance in the margins   
of this graceless in between  
before together, we fade away

\------

 

 

there is something to be said about this. about how the highlights of their relationship, somehow takes place in public restrooms and bathrooms. in that liminal space, there is an ocean of shared history and memories. in that graceless in between, framed by mirrored bathroom walls, somehow, sana and momo navigate each other and slowly, find a way of becoming real.

/

**in an office restroom; a space that is neither a beginning nor an ending.**

 

“so, i’ll see you later?” momo asks, turning around slightly to catch sana’s eye in the cracked bathroom mirror. 

the sound of rushing water echoes too loudly. momo, washing her hands with an absurd amount of soap. which is as a familiar a sight to sana as breathing. 

sana cannot help the smile that blossoms on her face. and gives herself up to the impulse, leaning over to kiss momo’s cheek, catching the edge of a smile. 

“see you later, momoring."

 

sana's hands are trembling. they haven’t stopped since, somehow echoing the way her heart is a broken rhythm of discordant notes. 

it’s impossible to button up her shirt when her fingers keep slipping. then hands reach out and ever so gently, does it for her. and sana’s heart just stops entirely.

she can’t help but watch the way momo’s fingers work over the buttons. steady and surely, with a quiet kind of confidence. a dance that mirrors the way momo is almost poetic when she's in motion. 

“hey,” momo’s hands are now cupping her face and it takes everything inside her to not break at the way momo’s eyes are so so soft. but there’s also a fierce intensity, and it’s coloured with love. a love sana doesn’t feel she deserves because - 

“satang,” momo’s thumb brushes over her cheek, sweeping away the lone tear track that escapes the corner of her eye. “it’s okay. it’s gonna be okay.”

 

sana’s head is spinning. everything seems to be surging in time to the cadence of their staccato breaths. 

the tiles on the restroom wall are a brilliant, cerulean blue. sana’s mind latches on to this detail, tries desperately to hold on to something. because momo’s fingers are working into her at a pace sana can’t quite keep up with. 

but then momo’s lips press insistently on that exact expanse of skin, right under sana’s ear. it’s deliberate because momo knows, and will probably always know, that this is one of the ways to dismantle sana completely.

“momo, i’m - “

“i’ve got you, it’s okay, just let go,” momo exhales in a long breath, words branding invisible marks on sana’s skin. and then, in the next breath, she kisses sana like she wants to be the oxygen that keeps sana from drowning. 

 

the rain is a hailstorm now. it pours over her relentlessly, unforgiving in its intensity. a reminder that sana deserves this, deserves to feel her heart completely waterlogged with memories. the same ones she’s been trying to outrun for two weeks now.

and sana can’t breathe. because it’s momo. 

and she can’t bring herself to look away. because it’s momo. 

it’s painfully silent and then momo breaks it, first with a tentative smile and then with a quiet voice, that shakes with an emotion sana cannot place. 

“i was really, really hoping that today will finally be the day i’ll see you again."

there’s panic now rising in constricting spirals that seem to wrap around sana tighter and tighter with every tiny step momo takes towards her. 

“i don’t - momo, _please_. i can’t.”

“it’s okay,” momo breathes, before tipping her forehead against sana’s. “we’ll figure it out, okay? so just - just _stay._ don’t run from me again."

it’s so easy to close the fraction of distance between them, so easy to let herself fall back into momo’s gravity because momo is holding her like she will never let sana go again. 

it’s so easy but it’s still momo that takes the first step. still momo that presses a feather-light kiss to sana’s lips. still momo that pulls back just slightly to murmur, “satang.”

it’s the way momo folds so much tenderness into one word, into a nickname that becomes everything sana wishes to have and to hold in her heart once again. 

this time, sana doesn’t let momo take the first step. when their lips meet, sana kisses momo hard enough to bruise. an unspoken apology cradled in a nest of unspeakable desire. 

there is a hurricane-like frenzy about the way they unravel each other’s clothes. and there is an uncontrollable spark of electric when momo’s fingers wander up and down the notches of sana’s spine, trailing goosebumps in their wake.

sana tightens her grip on momo’s waist, fingers seeking forgiveness from the soft give of porcelain skin. and searching for an anchor at the same time. 

( they don’t know this yet, but in the morning, momo will wake up to find her skin bruised with the weight of sana’s apologies. )

 

sana steps into the bathroom and this strange sense of foreboding settles in the pit of her stomach. it’s the kind of quiet before an oncoming storm.

the feeling only grows when she sees that the door of her favourite toilet stall is closed. how is this possible when she had timed this perfectly; a break from her usual mundane routine. 

she’s just standing in front of the door, trying to make sense of this. of whatever is going on, and stripping apart this strange foreboding, if only to understand it. 

and then the lock on the door slides to green. it creaks open in the kind of slow motion, only seen in movies.

there’s a split second that reveals only a sliver of light falling over jet-black hair, before cascading down to wind-swept bangs that frame the warmest brown eyes. the sweep of cheekbones tinted from the contours of shadow and light. 

sana is seized with a paralysing terror, frozen along with the earth beneath her feet that has somehow stopped rotating on its axis. it’s her entire world narrowed down to this one impossible, cruel moment. a moment that gathers dark storm clouds over her head. instinctively, sana knows there is nothing she can do to stop it when the clouds break, and rain floods over her in waves. 

it’s already too late. the frosted lake of her heart is splintering apart in uncontrollable spiderweb cracks. she knows what’s coming when that door opens fully.

she knows because there was once a different time, a different life. one full of mornings spent brushing back bangs messy from sleep. of tracing cheekbones with kisses that end in a waterfall of bright sunshine yellow giggles.

and then there were nights too, of moonlit stars that illuminate the warmth of eyes sana could get lost in - 

“sana?”

/

**in a tiny motel bathroom; a space that is the narrowing of sana’s heart into a future of lonely beginnings.**

 

the bathroom is tiny, small enough for sana’s elbows to knock against the wall every time she squeezes in front of the cracked mirror.

and yet, momo is still a large presence that fights for room, refusing to release her hold on sana. 

momo is all the way across town, in an apartment they called theirs. 

and sana is here, in front of a cracked mirror that shows not just her own reflection, but momo too. momo, with solid arms around sana’s waist, chin resting in the dip of sana’s clavicle. 

momo, who stubbornly refuses to leave her, even when she’s only a mere memory, a trick of light dancing across a mirrored surface. 

/

**in a handicapped restroom in a shopping centre; a space that bears witness to a painful unravelling.**

 

“sana, i don’t understand - “

sana forces herself to look away when momo’s voice cracks before the end of her sentence. she keeps her gaze locked onto the mirror, onto the smudge of black dirt at the top left corner. and sees herself in sharp relief, the way her sins have turned her into someone she can no longer recognise. someone who can find it in herself to hurt momo like this. 

momo, with fingers curled too tightly over the hem of her own shirt. with liquid eyes that shatter into heartbreak edged with confusion.

“it’s as simple as that, momo. we can’t be together.”

sana bites down hard on her lip and tastes blood. she cannot afford it, cannot risk saying anything more. because the only words she can feel trapped in her throat is a selfish longing to take back everything she just said.

somehow, sana finds the strength to move. she pulls the door open and with that first step outside, can almost hear how two hearts crack along the same painful lines.

still, she knows that momo will break. knows that momo will sink to the floor with all her edges worn away by this ache. 

and that, is time long enough for sana to walk away. 

/

**in the marble bathroom of a childhood home; a space too large to fold into a box and locked away.**

 

sana’s hands are numb, and her fingers carry wrinkled creases. yet, she keeps the water running over her hands. sana doesn’t quite know why. it’s not like the water will dissolve all the blood that will soon stain her hands.

her phone buzzes on the counter, lights up with a “baby, meet me at Tangs for dinner? i wanna get dumplings hee” 

by the time sana registers the message, it’s already too late to swallow down the tears gathering in a lump in her throat.

she’s hydroplaning and there’s no airbag. only a wall of sadness approaching. 

/

**in the bathroom that is all theirs; a space that is at once a haven and the best of this world they’ve created together.**

 

“ouch!”

“i barely hit you,” sana deadpans, biting back the smile threatening to break on her face. because momo is pouting like she’s decades younger than her actual age.

“your elbows are sharp, okay. like pirate daggers,” momo grumbles, but still shifts automatically when sana leans back against the edge of the tub.

momo sinks easily against her, back flush against sana’s front. two puzzle pieces that have learnt how to perfectly fit together.

“you love my elbows,” sana notes, tracing circles over the dip of momo’s hipbone. “i never hear you complaining when i’m on my elbows and - “

there’s an immediate scandalised gasp and a sharp slap to her hand. sana can see through it though, can see how there is a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of momo’s lips.

so she keeps her hand where it is, resumes tracing circles and infinity loops. maybe indirectly wishing for more of this, for a whole lifetime to soak in the feeling of momo’s weight in her arms.

“satang.”

sana hums at the nickname, and looks into momo’s eyes, already glinting with want. sana shifts and then leans in a little too fast - 

“OUCH!” 

it’s genuine this time because their foreheads had knocked together. 

momo is glaring now, rubbing at her forehead. sana’s forehead is hurting a little too but, a giggle bubbles up her throat. it turns into a fit of laughter when momo’s glare grows more pronounced. 

but of course, it takes less than three seconds before momo’s kind of laughing too. 

they try again, a little slower this time, but still sort of giggling giddily. 

when they finally (successfully) kiss, sana can only imagine that if happiness had a taste, it would be exactly like this. 

/

**in the restroom of McDonalds; a space brimming with possibilities and beginnings**

  

her phone buzzes in her pocket just as sana is done drying her hands. she takes it out and is so absorbed reading the text - 

something barrels right into her and sana yelps, tightening her grip on her phone to not drop it. in the split second it takes her to register what happened, her back has already collided with the restroom tiles.

it takes her another half-second to register that there is warm weight on top of her. 

sana blinks, tries to say something but then the girl lifts her head and _oh_.

“oh my god! i am so sorry! are you okay? i mean i hope you didn’t break anything. i’m really sorry i wasn’t looking - 

it comes out of nowhere, this urge to brush her fingers through messy wind-swept bangs, or maybe cup this girl’s red-tinged cheeks. 

but that makes _absolutely no sense_. this girl is a _stranger_. who is still halfway on top of sana and still rambling apologies in between anxiety-laced questions whether sana is okay. 

sana opens her mouth and the girl immediately falls silent, looking down at sana with the most endearingly worried little frown on her face. and red-tinged cheeks that puff out a little, adorably _cute._ another thought that makes _absolutely no sense_.

“uh,” sana manages to croak out, then clears her throat awkwardly. “i can’t really feel my legs?”

the girl’s frown deepens. sana just blinks, and waits for the dots to connect and then the girl’s eyes widen comically.

she lifts off, and leaps to her feet in one smooth, motion. and sana can only stare, because how exactly does a person move so effortlessly like that?

there’s no time to ponder the intricacies of the question, not when the girl reaches out her hand. 

sana takes it and allows the girl to pull her to feet with a surprisingly strong grip. too strong. sana flails, her arms windmilling, almost loses her balance and then -

“ouch.”

the girl is pinching the bridge of her nose, where sana’s hard brick of a phone smacked her. her eyes are watering in pain. and _why_ is sana such an _uncoordinated klutz_ sometimes.

she’s about to apologise, about to keep apologising over and over. to make up for the way the girl’s nose bridge is already a dark, angry red. 

the girl seems to realise sana’s intentions and shakes her head. making sana awkwardly snap her mouth shut again. 

“don’t apologise. i kind of deserved that,” she says with an easy smile.

sana stares uncomphrendingly and then grows even more bewildered when the girl lets out a barely suppressed snort and then starts giggling?

sana feels utterly wrong footed somehow but there’s something about the girl’s bubbling laughter that kind of  makes her want to laugh too. and sana is helpless against the tide of giggles that insist on escaping from her lips. 

it seems to go on for a while; their hysterical peals of laughter that strangely sound good in unplanned harmony. until it naturally tapers off. and they’re just sort of stupidly smiling at each other.

there is a twinkle in the girl’s eyes that sana knows - without actually quite knowing _how_ she knows - she can somehow get lost in, if she lets herself. 

“hi,” the girl offers her hand again.”i’m momo. i’m sorry i bumped into you.”

this part is easy, a familiar kind of introduction between strangers who are breaking the ice. 

it’s easy so sana is unprepared for the tiniest of sparks to shoot up her veins the moment momo’s hand is in hers. she’s also not expecting the tug that starts somewhere beneath her breast bone. like the universe is telling her something she can’t quite understand yet.

“i’m sana. and uh - i’m sorry i almost broke your nose.”

momo’s smile widens into the brightest of grins. she doesn’t let go of sana’s hand. “wanna go grab coffee? there’s a good cafe just down the street."

there is a casual, easy confidence that accompanies momo’s words. like as though she knows nothing else except how coffee is a natural progression of - whatever the last 5 mins was. 

maybe there are reasons why sana should say no, but somehow, she cannot think of anything else except how right this feels.

so sana lets it happen. nods her head with a small, bashful smile and feels momo squeeze her hand in reply. 

sana lets herself trust in the way momo tugs gently on her hand.

and together, hand in hand, they step outside. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> @skyclectic on twitter and cc. yeah, that happened. so, come say hi or ask me stuff :)


End file.
